


Damned If I Don't

by treaddelicately



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunter & Criminal, F/M, False Identity, Flirting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, mentions of Grant and Christian Ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treaddelicately/pseuds/treaddelicately
Summary: Clint had brought in far more dangerous criminals than a twenty-something with sticky fingers and a little luck with guessing security questions. No, Darcy Lewis was going to be a piece of cake.He was going to bring her back to New York, collect his cash, and celebrate with a beer.Total cake.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	Damned If I Don't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletnerd05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletnerd05/gifts).



> So a while back, BoudicaMuse and I ran a giveaway over on the [Taserhawk](http://taserhawk.tumblr.com) tumblr when we reached 100 followers. Scarletnerd won and was given a choice of any of our existing drabbles to turn into a full-fledged fic, and she chose my bounty hunter au.
> 
> I am so, so happy to say that after months of me dragging my feet on this fic, it's finally finished!
> 
> As always, thank you to BoudicaMuse for being my cheerleader and beta and the person who very gently reminded me that I needed to make good on those fics I'd promised people. 
> 
> This fic also fits my **Darcy Lewis Bingo square R4: Almost Kiss.**

“Good luck with that one.”

Bobbi’s voice rang out, clear as a bell in the cluttered room Clint liked to call his office. It was more of a box stacked to the ceiling with abandoned case files and chipped coffee mugs, but it did the job. Or, rather, helped him do his job.

“Don’t need luck when you’ve got skill.” Clint propped his boots up on the desk as he flipped through the file in his hands. “What’s up, Bobbi?”

She shoved his feet down and perched in the empty space left behind, holding up her own stamped folder. “Picked this up from Coulson today. Sounds like a real runner.”

The smug knowledge in her voice had Clint looking up at her through narrowed eyes.

“No. No, this one’s mine. No way he gave it to you.”

Bobbi lifted a shoulder in a shrug, opening her folder to reveal a mugshot paperclipped to a stack of paperwork. A young woman in her mid-twenties, dark hair curling over her shoulders past the frame of the photo. A stranger, yet familiar to him all the same.

Because it was the exact same photo, the exact same stack of paperwork that Clint had been looking through when Bobbi walked in. Damn Coulson, damn him straight to hell.

“He thought you might need help,” she said.

Clint snorted. “Bullshit.”

She arched an eyebrow, slamming her folder shut. “Alright, fine. I asked him for it.”

“Because you just can’t help yourself?”

“Because I want the money,” Bobbi shot back. “Darcy Lewis ripped off one of the most powerful senators in the country and skipped out on a $850,000 bail bond. He wants her in a prison cell. SHIELD wants their money back.”

He scowled and tossed his folder down, the rickety desk chair squeaking in protest as he climbed out of it.

“And they’re using two of us because Christian Ward is breathing down their necks,” he groused, shoving his arms into his jacket. “They don’t think I can do it on my own?”

Bobbi didn’t budge from her perch on his desk, unmoved by his show of irritation.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said. “Ward’s a powerful guy and SHIELD put up a lot of money to bail her out. There’s a lot riding on catching this girl. It’s about being practical, not your ego.”

All the same, Clint was still feeling pretty pouty about the whole thing. It wasn’t commonplace for bounty hunters to share the same mark, and the ten percent he was guaranteed for bringing this woman to justice wasn’t something he was willing to walk away from or share.

_Especially_ with his ex-wife.

“We could work together...” Bobbi began. The incredulous look he gave her must have stomped the brakes on that train of thought, though, and she changed course. “...or I can just call you when I’ve got her in cuffs.”

“When? You mean if.” Clint snorted, snatching the file off his desk to shove it into a duffel bag. “Not a chance in hell. And I definitely don’t need your help. We’ll just see who gets to her first.”

When he looked up again, Bobbi had her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Measuring him up, maybe. Clint stood a little straighter at the thought.

“May the best bounty hunter win, then.” She hummed as she slid off his desk and headed for the door, bumping him with her shoulder on the way by. 

He was so, so incredibly tempted to poke his head around the corner and fire back at her, but he had more pressing things to do. Phone calls to make, bags to pack, a young thief to track down and arrest.

It wasn’t like it would be that difficult. He’d brought in far more dangerous criminals than a twenty-something with sticky fingers and a little luck with guessing security questions. No, Darcy Lewis was going to be a piece of cake. 

He was going to bring her back to New York, collect his cash, and celebrate with a beer. 

Total cake.

* * *

Beating Bobbi to Illinois was the first step. They were chasing down the same leads, trying to beat each other to the punch, but Clint had the upper hand for now.

What had seemed like a simple thread at first had spiraled into a viable sighting and an address. Bobbi was likely still in New York trying to get Darcy’s old friends to return a voicemail while Clint had his eyes on the real prize, live and in person.

Darcy’s mugshot hinted at how pretty she was, but the real thing was even more striking. He could appreciate that even from across the bar.

Tracking her down wasn’t even the hard part, it was just managing to find a place where she’d stay for more than twelve hours before darting off again. Clint was two steps behind her at every turn and he hated feeling that way. He liked catching his targets off-guard, finding them just as they got comfortable and hauling them in while they howled injustice.

Darcy didn’t seem comfortable. She was on edge, denim-clad legs dangling off a stool and a Budweiser untouched in front of her. The long hair from her mugshot was long gone, cut above her shoulders in a wavy bob that made the lines of her face sharper, especially without her glasses. Her fingers twitched and tapped the bar top restlessly and she checked her phone every three minutes like clockwork.

He could have taken her into custody right there, but where was the fun in that? 

She’d probably try to run. They always tried to run first, before they realized Clint was a hell of a lot faster.

But if she ran or fought him, there could be damages to the bar. And he didn’t feel like wasting any of his pay on a couple of broken stools or a busted door. Better to play it safe, keep things calm until he could get her in handcuffs without a fuss.

Talking a gorgeous woman into leaving a bar with him? That much he could handle.

Clint abandoned his booth in the back and brought his empty beer bottle to the bar. Darcy was hardly the only person sitting there but the bikers were too wrapped up in telling their own loud stories to be hitting on her, so he was free to take the stool directly next to hers and make his move. 

Midwestern accent at the ready, he cleared his throat.

“You play pool?”

Darcy stopped spinning her cocktail napkin and looked up. “What?”

Clint nodded over to one of the empty pool tables. “You play? Been itching for a game but it’s no fun playing against myself. I always lose.”

She cocked her head with a little twitch of her lips and damn, if that didn’t just ratchet up his attraction ten-fold. _Focus, Clint_. 

“Play against me and you’ll end up losing, too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wanna bet on it?”

Darcy’s eyes slid over him and lingered somewhere around his biceps, appraising in that familiar way that always got his blood pumping. He tightened his grip on the bottle without an ounce of shame. If she wanted to look, he might as well give her something to look at.

Not that he could ever actually sleep with a mark, but still, it felt good to peacock a little bit. Take _that_ , Barbara.

“Twenty bucks,” she said.

Clint offered his hand to help her off the barstool. “Twenty bucks _and_ a dance.”

Which wasn’t strictly necessary, but what the hell. 

She smiled and took his hand, abandoning her drink in favor of the nearby pool table. “You’re on, stranger.”

Feeling victorious, Clint racked the balls while she grabbed a cue and rubbed chalk on the end. 

“I don’t have to be a stranger,” he told her. “Name’s Cameron.”

Darcy didn’t bat an eye at the frat boy name he’d pulled out of thin air, too busy leaning over the table to break with a killer shot that pocketed two striped balls. 

Shit. 

Alright, so she was good at pool. Clint was still willing to bet eighty-five thousand bucks that she wasn’t better than him.

That confidence wavered when she sunk two more balls, one after another, but her streak ended and she swore under her breath before straightening to look him in the eye.

“Katie,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, Cam.”

He circled the table to set up his shot with a chuckle. “Giving me nicknames already?”

“It suits you.” Darcy leaned her hip next to his, close enough that he could feel her body heat. Distracting, but not enough to keep him from ricocheting the solid three-ball straight into a corner pocket. “Very impressive.”

Clint straightened, his eyes dipping briefly to the line of cleavage disappearing into the scoop-neck shirt under her flannel. It was only a moment, but Darcy was smirking when he met her gaze again. No doubt she was used to the leering with a set of boobs like that.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Her lips parted in something akin to a smile. “We’ll see about that.”

He made two more clean and easy shots, but the third spun off course unintentionally. Okay, maybe a little intentionally. Probably wasn’t the best idea to sweep the entire game without turning on some more charm.

Rolling his shoulders, Clint stepped back and clasped his hands around his pool cue. “You always hang out in dive bars alone?”

Darcy leaned over the table to aim her cue, gracing him with another fantastic view of her tits. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, stark white against the red of her lipstick.

A dull _thunk_ sounded and she sunk a ball into the corner pocket. “I was waiting for someone.”

“And he stood you up.” Clint hummed. “Lucky me.”

Another flash of her teeth, bright and shiny and razor-sharp. “Don’t call it too early. You haven’t won anything yet.”

Heat prickled down his spine. Confidence was killer and she was laying it on thick. It was really too damn bad he was going to have to turn her in to the cops.

“I will,” he promised. “I want that dance.”

She didn’t have any other quips after that. Instead her eyes went laser-focused as she set up each shot with an accuracy that rivaled his. Clean, predictable motions without any showmanship. It was both attractive and unsettling.

There was nothing in her file that suggested she couldn’t have potentially been a pool shark during her Culver days, but something felt off. He was standing right beside her and still felt like he was two steps behind. Time to stop daydreaming about sucking on her plump, pouty lips and get down to business. 

But by the time he decided to really lay it on thick, she’d stopped shooting and was holding her phone instead. A worry line formed between her eyes as she tapped away, but Clint couldn’t get close enough to read the screen before she tucked it back into her pocket.

“Well, shit.” He put on an air of disappointment, one not entirely fabricated. “Gonna lose you to that date, aren’t I?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I never said I was meeting a date. It was my brother. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The relief was palpable but he kept it off his face, settling on a satisfied grin instead.

“Looks like you’re all mine after all.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Darcy answered, leaning over the table in a way that probably wasn’t meant to be erotic, but damn if it wasn’t doing things for him. Distracting, sure, but it also reminded him that he couldn’t actually let her win. 

Her eyes were narrowed in concentration and it seemed like the perfect time for Clint to make his move. He leaned his stick against the table and bent over, hovering near her ear as his hand curved around her elbow.

“You’re off,” he murmured, thumb brushing over the soft skin of her arm. Close enough to hear her breathing hitch, he guided her into position and tried not to think too hard about his hips pressed against the delicious curve of her ass. “There you go. Try it now.”

The eight ball dropped into the pocket and Darcy straightened so fast that she would have knocked her head into his chin if he hadn’t dodged it in time.

“Dammit!” For a moment, it was like looking at a completely different person. Her nose scrunched up adorably and Clint was pretty sure that pouty lip of hers was protruding even more. Weirdly, it was even more of a turn on than her sultry, femme fatale demeanor. “That wasn’t fair.”

“All’s fair—” Clint stopped when her pool cue hit him in the chest. 

“Nobody likes a bragger.”

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled and gathered both of their sticks and put them away. When he returned she had her phone out again, but just like before, she finished tapping and shoved it into her pocket before he could even snatch a glance at the screen. “I think I’ll take that dance now.”

Smug grin firmly planted on his face, Clint held out his hand. Darcy took it, her fingers curling around his as she stepped closer.

“The music here is pretty awful.” She cocked her head and flashed her teeth. “Maybe you’ve got something better at your place?”

Well, that was easy. A flirty game of pool and suddenly he was about to be living a hell of a lot more comfortably. Maybe he could even take some time off after he got to shove it in Bobbi’s face that he’d won fair and square.

“Oh yeah,” Clint said, wrapping his other arm around her to draw her close. “I’m sure we can find something to move to.”

Not his best line, but it was working. Darcy tilted her chin up and he leaned in, close enough to kiss her if he really wanted. He could. The way she was looking, she’d let him.

But that look was about to disappear. Once he got those cuffs clicked around her wrists, the fantasy would vanish. It wasn’t like either of them had been honest with each other, but the idea of taking her home for real was intoxicating. That quick-witted tongue pillaging his mouth, those thighs wrapped around his hips, the way she’d say his name when he made her come…

He leaned closer, fingers curling at the small of her back, already imagining the way she’d taste on his tongue.

Darcy was the one to stop him. She pressed her hand to his chest, lips twisted into that sheepish smile from before.

“I want to get out of here, but…” Her cheeks tinged pink. Completely at odds with the persona she’d been using all night, and completely adorable. “I have to pee first. Like, really bad.”

Clint blinked, startled out of the moment. “Right. Yeah, yeah, you should go do that.”

“Be right back.” She squeezed his hand and then let go. He tracked her with his eyes all the way to the bathroom and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

One breath in through the nose, hold it, count to eight, exhale. He repeated a few times until he got a lid on his horny lizard brain and could focus on the task at hand.

Something felt off. Even after he paid for his drink from earlier and navigated through the meager crowd to the bathrooms, Darcy hadn’t reappeared. He waited two more minutes before it started to feel _really_ off and then bolted for the parking lot to make sure she hadn’t decided to wait for him outside.

But she wasn’t there, either. Clint circled the perimeter and then went back into the bar to look for her again, but she was nowhere to be seen. Vanished into thin air.

She knew. Somehow, she knew, and she was fucking gone.

* * *

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“What was _I_ thinking? You’re the one who let her get away!”

Clint groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Arguing with Bobbi wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to solve their problem, but it was a nice outlet for his anger.

“You contacted Grant Ward. You tipped him off that we were looking for Lewis.”

Bobbi scowled at him, not even pausing in her pacing of the tiny motel room. It was his, the one he’d booked to try and regroup after Darcy’s magical slip from the bar, but that hadn’t stopped Bobbi from showing up and taking over like she owned the place.

“It’s not exactly private knowledge. And I thought maybe getting in touch with the senator’s brother wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Clint snorted. “You mean the brother who openly and very loudly despises him? That one?”

“Yes,” Bobbi replied sharply. “Because I think Grant Ward helped Darcy steal that money.”

“Do you hear yourself?” He stared at her, chest heaving. “Why else do you think Darcy ran? You went to Ward and he tipped her off! I could have had her!”

Her look of anger faded and was replaced by something far more exasperated.

“Yeah, you could have, if you weren’t so busy flirting and batting your eyes. You could have arrested her right then and there, but instead you had to make it a game! Because you’re dumb!”

Clint took a deep breath in through his nose. The worst part was, she wasn’t even wrong. If he hadn’t tried the subtle route, Darcy would have been behind bars in New York by now and he’d be waiting on a nice, fat check to clear. Maybe it was himself he really needed to be angry with.

“Fine,” he groused. “Fine. I fucked up.”

“Yes, you did.” Her tone was so smug and matter-of-fact that he briefly considered tossing her out into the hallway. “So where do we go from here?”

“ _We_?” 

Bobbi settled on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs with her eyebrows raised.

“Look, it’s pretty clear that we both made mistakes.” She held up a finger when Clint opened his mouth. “Stop it right there. I’m not admitting defeat. I’m saying we do this together.”

He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed firmly. “Together.”

“Are you just going to parrot back everything I say to you?”

“You’re not making a good case for a team-up, here.”

She narrowed her eyes but continued. “I’m just saying. Lewis is slippery. Maybe even a little crafty, but with both of us… we can catch her. We split the money, 50/50.”

Clint took a moment to consider it.

One one hand, he really didn’t want to cut his potential paycheck in half. There was a hell of a lot he could do with $85,000. Like maybe not bust his ass on the next few jobs, take a much-needed vacation. Spend some time with Lucky, buy him some new toys and a bed so he’d stop slobbering all over Clint’s own saggy mattress at night.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to do any of that if he couldn’t actually bring Darcy Lewis back to New York. 

Reluctantly, he stuck one hand out. “Alright, fine. Together, then.”

“It’s what we do worst.” Bobbi stood up to shake his hand, an equally displeased look on her face. “Now, I’ve got a plan, so sit down and actually listen for once.”

God, this was going to suck.

* * *

With a brick wall in front of her and buildings with locked doors on either side, Darcy officially had nowhere left to run. A surge of victory rolled through Clint’s gut as he stepped forward, pulling his handcuffs out of the holster on his belt.

“Give it up, Lewis. You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She looked around wildly as though considering scaling one of the walls, but even she finally had to admit defeat. Even so, he kept himself tensed for a fight while he put her arms behind her back.

“Seems to me like you’re a pretty shitty criminal to keep getting caught,” Clint said as he clicked the handcuffs around her wrists.

Darcy tipped her head back, a wicked smile on her red lips. He waited for the witty retort, but it never came. Huh. She’d been a hell of a lot mouthier the last time he saw her.

She stood perfectly still while he patted her down and confiscated the taser and gun in her waistband. Sufficiently convinced she wasn’t too much of a threat, Clint took her by the arm and led her out of the alley and down the sidewalk. 

His car wasn’t far and the sooner he got her into custody, the better. Bobbi would probably hang him with his own intestines if he let her slip away this time.

Darcy stayed quiet while they walked and his own internal gloating was plenty to fill the silence, but her lack of sarcastic comments had him curious.

“Nothing smart to say this time?”

She raised both eyebrows at him and then looked straight ahead again without uttering a word. Well, fine then. If she wanted to do things that way, they could do that. He was still getting paid either way.

Clint had thrown the car in park up against a curb a few blocks away. The street was empty aside from a few squirrels, which meant Bobbi was probably off still chasing her on foot as well. Because the SUV was a little high off the ground and Darcy was so short, Clint turned as he popped open the backdoor to give her a boost up onto the seat. As they maneuvered, she leaned in close, close enough that her lips brushed the stubble on his cheek. 

His heart skipped a beat just as he heard the metallic click and felt a weight around his wrist. 

“Seems to me like you need better handcuffs.”

Clint blinked and jerked his wrist, secured by the cuff and connected to the top of the door frame. Darcy smirked and held up her hands, waving them like a magician to an audience with a wink.

“See ya later, _Cam_ ,” she drawled in a perfect, albeit exaggerated, imitation of his Midwestern accent.

And then she ran, faster than he thought she could, disappearing into a crowd of tourists on the opposite side of the street.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so fucked. 

How the hell had she even managed it? The keys were still in his pocket, right?

Clint twisted to search his pockets with his other hand and confirmed that no, the keys were not in his pocket. Fuck, shit, damn it all. What was it about this girl that had him completely off his game in every way possible?

“Are you _kidding_ me?” 

His prayers had never been answered before, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to send another up. You know, just maybe to save whatever poor idiot was going to have to clean his entrails off the public sidewalk.

“She went that way,” Clint replied, extending his thumb and jerking his free hand towards the other side of the street. “You know, if you felt like catching her today.”

Bobbi threw her hands up. “You let her handcuff you?!”

“Maybe you could save the lecture for later and go after her!”

All of her muttered obscenities were carried away on the breeze as she ran in the direction Clint had indicated. He leaned on the car as casually as he could while he waited, looking every bit the jackass he felt. Bobbi returned a while later, empty-handed and scowling.

“I can’t believe you!”

Clint gaped at her. “Me? You were supposed to wait by the car!”

“I was scouting.” Bobbi tossed her hair, her fingers raking it back from her forehead in irritation. “I didn’t think she’d be dumb enough to go anywhere near you again.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?”

“You’re the one handcuffed to your own car! What’d she do, fish the keys out of your pocket?”

He didn’t answer, and that was enough for Bobbi. Her generally calm demeanor had twisted into something heated and angry.

“God, I can’t believe I agreed to do this with you.”

He glared. “Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Bobbi glared right back. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Clint replied in a clipped tone, digging through his pockets for anything that might let him pick the handcuffs open. “I’ll catch her myself.”

His fingers hit metal and he frowned.

“... should just leave you like this, honestly,” Bobbi was muttering, tapping away on her phone.

“Bobbi.”

“...can’t believe you let her run off like an _idiot_...”

“ _Bobbi_.”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

Clint pulled the keys out of his back pocket and held them up. Bobbi blinked once, twice, and then her eyes widened.

“Son of a _bitch_! Who is this girl?” 

He didn’t have any of the answers either. But he was going to find Darcy Lewis, no matter where he had to go to do it.

* * *

The mass of balloons tied to the mailbox bounced around in the breeze, a nice little marker that Clint had found the right house.

For a single, solitary moment in time, he felt like an asshole. Arresting Darcy at her niece’s birthday party was a cop-out, but he was done playing fair. If she was going to be dumb enough to go to a family event while she was running from the law, he figured that was her problem.

It had only cost him fifty bucks to get the information out of a high school friend that had seen her in town, after all. Another twenty for directions to the house and everything was back on track.

Now all Clint had to do was wait.

The smart idea would be to knock on the door, to take Darcy in before she had another chance to run. He even saw her in the huge bay window in the front, arranging presents on a table. She was _right there_.

But he wasn’t completely heartless, and ruining a little kid’s party didn’t sound like a good time. He could be patient.

It was a long party, but he didn’t take his eyes off the door. Not even an hour and a half in when the boredom started to set in and he was tempted to turn on the radio just for something to do. Not a chance in hell was he going to risk missing her this time.

After a while, groups of sugared-up kids and their parents trailed out of the house one by one. When only a few cars remained parked on the street and Clint started to worry that she’d snuck out the back, a peel of laughter coming through the front door caught his attention.

Darcy emerged, her head tipped back and her pretty red lips parted as she laughed. The source of her amusement revealed itself a second later, a muscled man with his arm around her shoulders and teeth that belonged in a damn dental commercial. Adrenaline surged through Clint’s veins as he climbed out of the car, along with a familiar twist in his gut that he didn’t care to name. It wasn’t his business if Darcy had a boyfriend. 

Well, unless the guy tried to fight him. That would make things a little more complicated.

He shut the door quietly, but Darcy and her man were already at the end of the driveway and there weren’t any party guests left to divert her attention. She met his gaze as he walked towards her, his stride quick but careful. 

“Ah, shit,” she said. The man at her side raised his eyebrows and stepped in front of her, but Darcy tugged on his arm. “Trip, don’t. I can handle it.”

“Sure,” Clint responded diplomatically, stopping when his boots hit the paved driveway. “You could run. But I’ll catch you.”

Darcy made a strangled noise of dissent and _Trip_ , or whatever his name was, put his arm in front of her like a soccer mom hitting the brakes too hard.

“She ain’t running anywhere. You’re not taking her.”

So it was going to be a fight, then.

“No.” Darcy pushed Trip’s arm away and stepped forward until she was close enough for Clint to touch. “I’ll come with you. I don’t want a scene here.”

The resigned note to her voice, the emphasis on _here_ like he was invading a sacred space, had a nice rush of guilt rankling up Clint’s spine.

Only for a moment, until he remembered her giving him the slip in the bar in Illinois and handcuffing him to his own car in Wisconsin. She was a criminal on the run and he was a bounty hunter and this was his job. If he started getting a guilty conscience about every mark he was assigned to, he’d never afford to eat.

“Darce, I’m not gonna let you—”

“ _Let_ me?”

Trip swallowed, chastened, and Clint felt a rush of satisfaction that he wasn’t the only man who seemed incapable of handling Darcy Lewis. 

He pulled his handcuffs out and twirled his finger in the air in a ‘turn around’ motion, still very aware that she could run at any moment. Every muscle in his body felt tight and tense, ready for another chase, but it never came. She obliged and he cuffed her with a sense of disbelief, ensuring that they were nice and snug on her wrists.

“Don’t worry, dude,” Darcy said over her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

No, she wasn’t, but Clint didn’t get a chance to answer before Trip was way too close for comfort. He took a step back, tugging Darcy with him, but the other man held his hands up in surrender.

“I just want to say bye,” he defended. “That ain’t a crime.”

After a beat, Clint conceded with a terse nod. He kept his hand curled around Darcy’s upper arm to prevent any last ditch escape attempts and turned his head to give them a moment. Not an entirely private one, though, with their proximity and his aids cranked a little higher than normal.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Darcy’s tone was softer than he’d heard it before, low and soothing as though she were reassuring a toddler after a nightmare. “It’s just a decade. Plenty of time for me to grow my hair out, become a born-again Christian, find myself a hot prison girlfriend…”

His lips curved, but it was Trip who laughed out loud.

“You’re an idiot,” he told her, and Clint saw him cup Darcy’s face in his hands and bend to kiss her forehead. 

The twisting in his gut started up again and he shoved it far down, under everything else he needed to keep suppressed to get through the day.

“I love you too,” Darcy said. “Keep an eye on them for me, okay?”

Trip nodded and stepped back, looking for all the world like he’d rather fight than let her leave. The last thing they needed were any more dramatics, so Clint gave her arm a little tug. 

“Time to go,” he muttered.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she huffed back. “You win, dude.”

Yeah, he had. But somehow, even after he had her searched and buckled in and made the call to confirm his capture to the NYPD and SHIELD, Clint didn’t feel much like celebrating.

* * *

The ride back to New York was a long one, and quiet for a while. Darcy stared straight out the window for the first hour with a stubborn set to her jaw that continued to dull Clint’s victory fire.

Which, you know, made sense. She was headed to a lengthy prison sentence and a judge who absolutely wasn’t going to have any mercy for a woman who’d evaded arrest for months and wasted plenty of state resources in the effort to capture her. She had plenty of things to be upset about.

And no matter how much guilt her sad eyes were stirring up inside him, none of it was Clint’s fault.

It was almost surreal, after months of trying to track her down, to have her cuffed and silent in the back of his car. Fucking finally. No more endless phone calls to friends who _might_ be willing to sell her out, no more bullshit taunts from Bobbi, none of it. He’d won, dammit.

The only thing that could have lifted his spirits more was another round of rousing banter with Darcy, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Gone was her playful attitude, the smirks she’d laid on so thick each time she’d slipped out of his grasp. Just the edge of regret in her eyes, like she was disappointing everyone she cared about. Well, that was her problem.

He wasn’t the one who’d ripped off a senator. He was just doing his job.

“What is your real name, anyway?”

Clint looked into the rearview mirror to find Darcy staring back at him. “What?”

“Your name. It’s not really Cam. You don’t even look like a Cameron.”

She sounded so indignant that his lips twitched of their own accord, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Clint, actually. My name’s Clint.”

Darcy made a noise of acknowledgment and went back to staring out the window. Clint turned his focus back to the road but now that the silence had been broken, he wanted more. Like idly scratching an itch and going back again, even when the skin was broken and it was only ever going to end badly.

“What’d you do with the money?”

Darcy’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror again, her eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

“Just… making conversation.”

She actually laughed at that, reminiscent of the laughter he’d heard from her in the bar, but this time there was an edge. Which sucked, because she had a nice laugh. One of those laughs that were just a little _too_ much but ended up making everyone else laugh a little harder because it was so genuine.

“Do you always make conversation with your marks?”

Clint shrugged. “I normally don’t have to haul my marks across multiple state lines. You’re a special case.”

“Damn right I am,” Darcy said, and that got a chuckle out of him.

Things were quiet for a while longer, but it was more stifling than before, and Clint switched on the radio to help fill the dead air in the car. Some classic rock radio station crackled in and out but he didn’t care to search for anything else. It was something, at least.

In the grand scheme of things, what did it matter what Darcy had done with the money? It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t hired to recover Christian Ward’s cash, he was just there to bring the thief to justice, collect his own check, and be on his merry way. 

The itch was still there, though. The need to know. He’d scratched and now it was raw and demanding attention.

Admittedly, Clint didn’t know much about Darcy from her file. Culver graduate with a degree in political science who’d worked on Senator Ward’s re-election campaign until she’d stolen nearly a million dollars from his personal accounts was about the extent of it. But some of the things he’d learned about just weren’t adding up with the version of her he’d built up in his head.

Slowly, Clint unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Where’d you learn to get out of handcuffs like that?”

A small noise of amusement came from the backseat. “God, you’re nosy.” 

“Curious,” he corrected. “Back in Illinois, how did you do it?”

Darcy hummed like she was considering his question. Just when he figured she was going to clam up again, she opened her mouth and proved him wrong.

“I bounced between a lot of foster homes growing up, but I stayed with the Tripletts the longest. Their son was obsessed with escape artists, Harry Houdini, that kinda thing. Magic, I guess. He taught me a lot.”

It wasn’t an answer that Clint had expected, and it almost felt like pieces trying to click together in his brain. Something was there, but he couldn’t see it yet.

“So he practiced with you?”

“You mean did we lock each other in weird places?” She laughed. “Yeah, a lot. Trip was always really careful about it, though.”

_Oh_. Clint cleared his throat, feeling weirdly chastened at the rush of information. “Trip’s your brother.”

Darcy was quiet for a moment and then she let out a strangled sound. “Wait, did you think we were together?”

“I didn’t know what to think.”

“I told you that I had a brother,” she reminded him. “Back in the bar.”

Clint gave her an incredulous look in the mirror. “You also told me your name was Katie. Kinda hard to believe anything that came out of your mouth.”

“I only ever lied to you twice. To protect myself and to protect people that I care about.”

So now they were getting somewhere. She was an altruist, apparently.

“Grant Ward is someone that you care about?”

When he looked back again, Darcy was rolling her eyes.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

Clint signaled for a lane change with a snort. “Because you stole a bunch of money from his brother?”

“Fair,” she conceded. “But Grant’s not his brother. He’s a good man who’s just made some bad choices. He helped me out a lot.”

“He helped you run,” he guessed. She shut her mouth and looked away, which Clint accepted as an affirmative.

Bobbi had been right about that, too. Not that he was ever going to tell her that.

“Christian Ward is scum of the Earth.” Darcy’s voice, softer than before, carried from the backseat. Still, it was low enough that Clint turned down the radio so he could catch every word. “Defunding foster care programs, trying to ban gay couples from adopting… he’s a disgusting bigot.”

He let that settle between them, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like he agreed with any of the senator’s policies, either. 

For a man who was charismatic and left-leaning enough to get himself elected in one of the bluest states in all of the country, Clint had heard rumors about Ward’s true nature. Donations to centers for conversion therapy, the proposed bills allowing private adoption agencies to discriminate against LGBT couples, all swept under the rug by the time he was up for re-election.

“You still stole from him, Darcy. That’s a crime, even if he is a grade-A fuckface.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” Her words sliced the air, the softness in her voice long gone. “He got what he deserved. And so did a lot of other people.”

The only sound for a mile or so was the roar of his tires on the pavement, but that was all it took for Clint to put the last piece together.

“The money,” he mused. “You gave it away. You sent funding to some of those foster care programs, didn’t you?”

Darcy met his gaze in the mirror again, startling him with the ring of red around her eyes and a dampness on her cheeks he hadn’t noticed before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “You’re not as good of a liar as you think you are, you know.”

“And you’re a shitty bounty hunter,” she fired back.

“I never wanted to be a bounty hunter,” he answered without thinking. “Just kinda… ended up here.”

She made a quiet noise of disbelief. “Maybe that’s your whole problem, then.” And then she leaned her head on the window and closed her eyes, shutting herself off from any retort he could have possibly mustered.

Whether she actually went to sleep or not, Clint wasn’t sure, but the silence enveloped the car again and left him alone with his thoughts.

Bounty hunting wasn’t the worst thing he could have done with his life. He had all the necessary attributes, after all. The people skills, the street smarts, the muscle needed to take down an idiot fugitive at a moment’s notice. 

But he’d started bounty hunting to bring the right people to justice. The violent criminals who skipped bail, domestic abusers who violated restraining orders, muggers who wouldn’t give two shits about stabbing someone to get a few bucks.

Darcy was a criminal in the eyes of the law. She’d stolen nearly a million dollars, and it didn’t matter that she’d stolen it from a sack of shit walking around in a suit. It didn’t matter that she’d probably donated every cent of that money to worthy causes, to families who were just doing their best to help kids who had no one else in the world.

Although, it probably mattered to those kids. He’d been one of them once. A lifetime ago.

It mattered to every person who saw Christian Ward as a genuine threat to their safety and rights. To them, Darcy wasn’t a criminal. She was a hero who’d done what they all imagined doing when that fartbag opened his mouth and spewed lie after lie. She’d broken the law, but she was a good person.

Clint spent an extra half hour finding a good place to make his impulsive decision. They weren’t too far from the nearest exit, but it was dark and the highway was mostly deserted. If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t be able to do it at all.

Darcy woke when the car stopped.

“Already?” She yawned. “I thought I’d have time for a semi-decent nap before they shoved me into a cell.”

“Not exactly.” Clint switched off the lights and climbed out to open Darcy’s door and unbuckle her. 

She recoiled when he touched her, her eyes wide in the darkness. “Hey, whoa, hands off!”

He swore under his breath and stepped back, holding his hands up with his palms facing her. “It’s not like that. I’m just going to help you out of the car, okay?”

Her face was hard to make out even with the moonlight shining into the car, but she must have believed him because she finally let out a quiet, “Okay.”

Clint gently took her arm and helped her out. Once her feet hit the pavement he dug the keys out of his pocket and clicked the lock on her cuffs, freeing her wrists and tucking them back into the holster on his belt.

“What the hell are you—”

“You’ve got ten minutes before I have to call this in,” he interrupted. “There’s an exit two miles up ahead. Just a local gas station from what I could tell, so there shouldn’t be any security cameras if you stop there.”

The moon hit just right then, lighting up Darcy’s face as she turned and stared up at him. Her hair was all mussed on one side from her nap, sleep lines still clear on her cheek, and he had to resist the urge to smooth his thumb over them. “Clint. What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna let you punch me to make it look real, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “Go, Darcy.”

They stood locked in a stand-still for several seconds until she reached out and pressed her hand to his chest, just over his heart.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Clint curled his hand over hers. “Don’t say anything. Just run. Ten minutes, remember?”

She squeezed his hand and then let go, stepping back and looking down with a deep breath as though gathering herself. When she looked up again, it was like looking at the girl from the bar again. All wicked smile and killer eyes and a confidence that radiated out of her and made him want to run with her.

“I can do a lot with ten minutes,” she said.

Clint grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

* * *

The first deposit showed up two months later. A seemingly random ten grand dumped into his bank account that the bank insisted showed up as a direct deposit from a random security company he’d never heard of in Wisconsin.

The second one was much bigger and came from a private bank account in Illinois that no one seemed to be able to trace.

It kept up like that, random amounts showing up every few weeks or months. There was no pattern and Clint stopped trying to figure it out. He didn’t spend a dime of it, either. It seemed like the safer option to dump it into a separate account in case the IRS came for his ass, or worse, Christian Ward himself.

When it all was said and done, Clint’s second bank account hovered right around $85,000. 

Three weeks after the last deposit showed up, he came home from another day of interviews to find an envelope wedged in the door. Lucky was too thrilled at the chance to go out and potty for him to read it right away, but once he’d gotten him leashed up and walked downstairs, he was able to rip it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper with looping, neat handwriting.

_Cam,_

_I might have paid one of my debts, but I think I owe you more than just a thank you. In fact, I’m pretty sure I owe you a dance. So if you’re up for another chase, I’ll let you pick the music. If you work really hard, you might even find me sooner than you think._

_I hope you do._

_xoxo,_

_Katie_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you made it this far, please leave a kudos and if you're feeling really frisky, go ahead and leave a comment! :D


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